


The Chemical, Physical, Kryptonite

by Memories_of_the_Shadows



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Banter, Hair-pulling, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, NO dub-con, Sex Pollen, no non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22597141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memories_of_the_Shadows/pseuds/Memories_of_the_Shadows
Summary: This is why you don't take samples of stuff you don't recognize in a different galaxy.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 14
Kudos: 68





	The Chemical, Physical, Kryptonite

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Shut Up and Dance" by Walk The Moon. I just really like this song, y'all, it doesn't have much to do with the story.
> 
> I do not consent to my work being hosted on any unofficial apps, especially any with ad revenue and subscription services, or any website other than ao3 unless I personally cross-posted a work.

“Uh, Colonel, perhaps you should not--” Teyla sighs as Colonel Sheppard drinks the tea sample provided by the shopkeeper in one go.

“Sheppard, does that have near-lemon in it? I’m dying over here,” Dr. McKay asks, sweating already from the Sunoj’s twin suns. Teyla pulls her pack from her back to retrieve her canteen.

“McKay, you should--”

“Nope, buddy, it’s safe,” Colonel Sheppard says. The shopkeeper’s eyes go wide with the prospect of such a sale--and normally it _would_ be quite the sale for them--and Teyla hopes that Dr. Beckett will be able to handle what is to come.

Lt. Ford bounces a little in place, “oh I’m really thirsty too,” and reaches for a cup. Teyla narrows her eyes at the shopkeeper and shoves her canteen into Ford’s outstretched hand. He pouts but drinks the water. The shopkeeper quails a bit under Teyla’s gaze and removes the rest of the samples from the table.

“Colonel, Dr. McKay, what is the protocol for consuming strange beverages that you informed me of?” she asks, annoyed because they should have left the moment she recognized the stall. She should have _smelled_ it, even though she’s had it before and the effect is much lessened. These poor Lanteans, they have no defenses against so many things. Teyla is willing to take the blame for not recognizing it sooner, but she would have _thought_ they would be able to resist the scent enough to listen to her.

“I-- why did I drink that?” Colonel Sheppard is still coherent, which bodes well for them to be able to return to Atlantis, but he already has the tell-tale flush climbing his neck.

Dr. McKay looks at the cup in his hand in horror. “Sheppard!” he squawks, while Ford clutches her canteen to his chest, eyeing the cup suspiciously. “What did you just make me drink?”

The shopkeeper babbles an apology that Teyla waves away and disappears. Which is likely good for them but bad for the Lanteans. “I didn’t _make_ you drink anything, McKay, you did that yourself.” Colonel Sheppard does not even seem to realize it when he puts a hand on Dr. McKay’s shoulder and drags it down his arm. Dr. McKay shivers and glares, his own skin reddening rapidly.

“Now is not the time for recriminations. We should go back. To where Dr. Beckett may examine you?” Teyla does not think he will be able to do much to assist with them--and she does not think they have any partners that may make the process smoother--but the Lanteans have surprised her with their technology and adaptability before.

She herds them back through the Ring of Ancestors as quickly as she is able, with Lt. Ford jumping at shadows, and the Colonel and Dr. McKay sniping at each other while not straying out of touching distance.

This will be a long day.

* * *

John knew what the ‘tea’ was even before they left M9S-210, even without Teyla saying anything. Unfortunately, not before he actually _drank_ it--and he’s still kicking himself for that lapse in judgement, even more for dragging McKay into it--but it’s not hard to figure out.

Figures that Pegasus would have _sex pollen tea_ just out where anyone could have some. There’s days when he hates this whole damn galaxy. They had samples. _Samples_ , like some kind of strip mall. (He’ll be damned if he strips in front of his team, no matter how overheated he feels right now. Ford is his baby marine, Teyla can and does kick his ass ten ways from Sunday whenever she feels like it, and, well, McKay. He’s not going to think about McKay.)

Carson takes their temperature, ignores McKay’s frankly hilarious rant about voodoo and sex rituals--John thinks if anyone is to blame for _sex pollen tea_ it would have to be Teyla, seeing as Carson wasn’t anywhere even near them when it happened no matter what McKay might be saying, but since blaming Teyla is not an option he’s going to blame the Wraith, as he usually does whenever bad things happen in Pegasus--and tells them gravely, “well, lads, this seems to be exactly what Ms. Emmagen says it is.”

“Is there a cure, Dr. Beckett?” Elizabeth asks over the intercom. John shifts uncomfortably. He still has all his clothes--and he’s keeping them through sheer willpower--and it’s only him, McKay, and Carson in the infirmary, but this entire situation has him feeling as exposed as if he’d shucked his pants an hour ago on M9S-210.

McKay does not seem to have the same problem, having already shed his jacket, and prowling around the infirmary bitching like a caged tiger even though he’s visibly hard and it _has_ to be uncomfortable. John looks up, away.

Is that a new light? He likes that light. Anything below the light is really dangerous for him to be staring at. It’s just so pretty and curvy, the Ancients really knew how to make lights. Really into the aesthetics, the Ancients. Yep.

“I’d rather talk to Teyla a bit more before I make any treatment plans, Dr. Weir,” John would rather that too. This isn’t the first time Elizabeth has been uncomfortably invested in his medical situation, but having to hide his hard cock from her has made John uniquely interested in making sure it’s the last time. As soon as he gets out of this and can look Carson in the eye again, he’s going to be having a _serious_ talk with the doctor.

“Just make sure I get my chief science officer and military commander back in one piece.” The intercom clicks off right as McKay snorts.

“You are not coming near my dick with needles, you sheepfucker.” Carson coughs, fighting a smile, and John takes a look at McKay’s dick. Just to make sure there’s no needles near it. There’s not, but he takes several long seconds to process that. And back up, _away_.

Is it called a light, or a lamp? He really needs to figure that out right now. And, of course, John can only figure that out by staring at it _really hard_.

“Given your elevated heart-rate and increased blood pressure, Rodney, I believe we can solve this problem without needles,” Carson says sweetly. “Unless you’d rather _I_ relieve the pressure, in which case I’d be happy to try. Or, we could get some ice and wait and see how things work out if it’s really such a chore.”

“You sadistic witch doctor,” hisses McKay. John fights down the urge to kiss the insults away, because _that_ is really something he can’t afford. They may not be able to reach Earth yet, but it’s only a matter of time and he really can’t have another accusation in his jacket.

“I suppose you don’t want ice then?” John is on board with McKay’s assessment. Carson is very sadistic. Also finding way too much humor in this situation. There is nothing funny about it, not from where he’s sitting. He pushes down on his crotch and shifts, wishing that he could just start this day over again and avoid the whole thing.

“There will be no ice _or_ needles going near my dick, Carson!” John can think of some far more pleasant things going near his cock, but right now, with McKay not only in view but practically in touching range, ice doesn’t seem that bad. Things could be worse. Court-martial worse.

“In that case, Rodney, Colonel,” Carson opens a drawer and pulls out several packets, “please use as much lubrication as necessary to avoid skin irritation and remember protection if you seek out a partner. Ms. Emmagen says that these symptoms and any strange urges you may be having will fade within a couple of hours, quicker if you engage in… copulation.”

John is not having this conversation. He is not here, this isn’t happening, and he may go to his room and jack off as many times as the _sex pollen tea_ will make him and his body will allow, but he is _not_ going to think about McKay doing the same thing. (That’s a total lie, but he’s not going to think about that _here_ with McKay watching. John’ll feel guilty later.)

Carson’s gone by the time John risks looking away from his new lamp-friend, but McKay isn’t. He’s just standing there, staring intensely at John, pants tented, cheeks red, breathing hard, and looking good enough to eat. Hello again, lamp-friend.

“Sheppard, stop looking at the light fixture.”

“It’s a lamp, Rodney, can’t you tell?” John’s not looking away from the lamp again possibly ever, because McKay is a stubborn asshole at the best of times and this is not the best of times.

He’s trying not to think of how much he normally likes it when McKay is a stubborn asshole.

“It’s a light fixture, you fluffy-haired idiot,” McKay snipes back, leaning imperiously over John to block his view of his lamp-friend with his face. John closes his eyes. “Stop ignoring me.”

“I’m not ignoring you.” John’s just not going to look at him until he stops wanting to pin Rodney to the floor. Or the table. Maybe the wall. His knee has been doing much better recently.

“Tch,” Rodney tries to pry open one of John’s eyes. John lets him try, and _he_ tries to ignore how good Rodney’s calluses feel on his face. “John, come on, it’ll be over with faster for both of us if we just have sex.”

“I’m ignoring you now.” Even if he _did_ have sex with Rodney, the first time is _not_ going to be hyped up on some weird Pegasus sex pollen tea. And it’s definitely not going to be when half of Atlantis has probably heard the story by now and is expecting them to fuck like bunnies. The rumors alone would probably be enough to do him in.

“So you’re just planning on what? Seducing some alien princess?” There’s a weird note to Rodney’s voice that makes John’s pulse skip, but there’s often that note whenever Rodney gets on the subject of John’s supposed conquests. He’s not sure where Rodney got the idea that he’s had so much sex throughout the galaxy. There was that night with Chaya--and he has a new-found appreciation for tentacle porn now--but other than that, there’s just been endless nights alone with his hand and memories of Rodney’s ass. His shoulders. Or his mouth. His cock is probably going to make an appearance now. Sometimes he’s even thought about Rodney completely destroying some minion’s self-esteem and John is fairly sure he has a problem that isn’t going away anytime soon.

“Rodney. We’re not allowed off-world like this. We might not be allowed off-world for a while because of this.” Rodney grumbles under his breath, something about Carter that John would prefer not to hear. He _likes_ Carter. He doesn’t want to look at her and get all jealous over someone he can’t have anyway.

“Why don’t you want to have sex with me?” There’s a bit of a whine in Rodney’s voice, and John clenches down on his muscles so he doesn’t squirm in his seat at how much he wants to hear it again.

“For Gods’ sake, Rodney, I’m not going to-- I don’t want to have sex with you like this!” John just wants to be alone in his quarters, forgetting this ever happened. Only good thing about it is Teyla says after the first time the fucking _sex pollen tea_ \--he’s never getting over it, this is what his life is now, his life has turned into some crazy porn video--just acts as a mild aphrodisiac.

“…‘Like this’?”

Shit. “Nice talk buddy, I’ll see you later!” John throws what little is left of his dignity to the wind and bolts out of the infirmary for the nearest transporter.

* * *

Rodney suffers through the few hours it takes for the tea to lose its effectiveness--well, suffers is a relative term, he hardly thinks a couple of hours alone with his very own, customised vibrator and his prostate is really _suffering_ \--and gives it about a day before he tracks down John.

He’s being _kind_ , really. Patient, too. Rodney even stops by Carson’s office to get the witch doctor’s seal of approval that there are no more drugs in his system, so John absolutely cannot say his reasoning is compromised again.

John only cocks an eyebrow when Rodney slams his tray down at John’s table and takes the bite he’d been about to make when Rodney arrived. John is annoyingly good at compartmentalization, Rodney knows, and the idiot has probably already repressed all of yesterday.

Too bad Rodney isn’t about to let it go quite so easily.

It’s probably really suspicious that Rodney eats quietly, without talking, if the increasingly neutral look that John has is anything to go by. He should try it more often, if it’s this easy to wind Sheppard up.

They finish eating, Rodney keeping a close eye on John to make sure he doesn’t bolt, he wouldn’t put it past him. Anything even resembling feelings has been enough to send John out the door in the past, although he’s gotten better since the Genii invaded. His leg is bouncing by the time they finish, though, and right, _that’s_ why he normally talks through lunches and stuff. Silence is awful and awkward.

John stands up and frowns when Rodney grabs the brownie--he doesn’t know how they make brownies out of what they have in Pegasus, and he doesn’t _want_ to know, as long as they taste somewhat familiar--and stands up too. “You can finish eating, you know. No need to be all formal and stuff.” He laughs at his own dumb joke, honestly, John is _very_ lucky he is pretty because he’s certainly not blonde enough for Rodney’s normal tastes.

Rodney glares at him. “Don’t overtax your last brain cell, you brute, clearly we need to talk.”

There’s a flash of something across his face before John smiles easily, the one he normally gives to his alien princesses. “Well, buddy, we had all of lunch to talk. I have things to do.”

“I rescheduled you to light switch duty. I even made sure to ask Weir.” Rodney better be getting something _good_ for how nice he’s been.

“And you couldn’t ask me?” John doesn’t sound offended, more resigned. It’s a familiar tone of voice that means Rodney is about to get his way.

“This is me. Asking.” Rodney doesn’t have a lot of practice with that, but if John walks away now, after Rodney has been very nice and patient and _clear_ without actually coming out and saying things that both of them would rather keep private? He’ll let him go. Maybe he’ll even manage to be friends with John again, after a while.

And some actual chocolate. Or coffee.

John sighs. “Fine. Light switch duty it is.”

Luckily, Rodney took the precaution of clearing a room for his use in this ahead of time. Luck doesn’t really have anything to do with it though. That’s all skill. And judicious minion terrorizing.

The door seals behind them, probably Atlantis picking up something from John because she never moves that quickly for him. Rodney lets himself be jealous for a second before he lets it go. They have better stuff to do.

“So, ‘like this’, Sheppard? Going to explain that to me?” It had been rather thrilling to hear, even after getting shot down by John a couple times. Rodney won’t deny that he’s very appreciative of John’s protectiveness, easy friendship when all others had been and remain terribly difficult, and his skill at prime not prime. (And he’s never going to forget the first time they met, John’s face when he showed Rodney the universe from the Antarctica control chair. If John hadn’t been in the military then, Rodney would have dragged him into a closet the moment everyone turned their back.)

“Wasn’t planning on it.” John’s arms are crossed over his chest and he’s looking out the window onto the ocean instead of at Rodney where they should be.

“But you’re still here.”

“I’m here. Playing light switch.” The lights flicker, and Rodney scowls at John, who is smirking off into the distance.

“That better be you, if I have to fix the lights here I will be very upset.” Especially since it will mean even _more_ time wasted.

“It’s me, don’t get your panties in a twist.” John briefly glances over and holds up his hands in surrender. Good. At least he recognizes when Rodney isn’t in the mood for jokes.

“Fine, don’t tell me then.” Rodney will get him to spill eventually, but he’ll be patient. Attack on another front. “How about you tell me why you didn’t want to have sex with me.”

John frowns. “It can’t be because I’m straight?”

Rodney actively snorts at that. “Right, okay. Yeah, John, and you watch Kavanagh leave the room because you think he’s a nice guy and you wish he was staying instead of a relatively attractive waste of a PhD. Your taste is terrible but I’ll forgive you.” John winces.

“I do not. Don’t say things like that, McKay.”

“Is it that stupid American thing? Is that what’s got you so bent? Don’t worry you’re not that obvious, unless they’re watching closely.” Rodney almost feels bad if it is that, John’s terrible taste aside. The last thing he wants to do to John is scare him like that. “I thought you knew. It’s not part of the Military Code of Conduct for Pegasus.” And really, John _should_ know that. Rodney knows he’s read the entire thing. And can quote it.

“But we’re under American law, McKay, that was the agreement.”

“Uh-huh. And the Canadian and French representatives did not want to allow their military and scientific assets to deal with that kind of thing. Besides, you read all of SG-1’s reports, Stargate Command has not been able to be very strict on that stupid thing in a very long time. Homophobic idiots don’t survive going through the gate very long either.”

* * *

John is lost in the royal blue of the ocean. It’s different from the ocean on earth, a different color and different life beneath it. But different isn’t bad, not always, and Atlantis has always felt like home, even before this, but this, this is just _relief_.

It’ll take time for the instinct to push away his thoughts and feelings to disappear, and it might not even be a bad thing for it to stay. He’s in command of the military in a war zone. Being openly in a relationship with anyone, let alone… well, it could call into question his judgement on certain issues; even if he doesn’t have to be wary about jail time or at the very least losing his entire career.

The minutes stretch out and John just stares at the ocean. They should name it something, but no one in the Stargate program seems to be very good at naming things, and the scientists don’t seem to be too worried about it either. John just hopes that someone doesn’t name it after _him_. It’d be okay if they named it after McKay or Elizabeth. Just not him.

Rodney shifts impatiently behind him, but John doesn’t know what to say to him. It’s good… he’s happy that he knows now at least. It must have been a last minute change, Sumner had kept John pretty busy those last couple of weeks, dirty jobs normally given to the dregs in a company and probably meant to make John reconsider. He didn’t, and he likes to think that Sumner eventually respected him for it and for what came later.

“Hey,” Rodney says, and the rhythmic swish of air says Rodney’s hopped up on a desk and started kicking his feet. John is not very entertaining right now, he doesn’t blame Rodney for being bored. “You remember when we first met?”

John will never forget it. The rush of combat flying again after so many months, _connecting_ with the chair on such a level that only the chair in Atlantis herself has been able to beat, and, of course, Rodney McKay. “Of course I do buddy. You helped show me the universe, looked at me like I had the answer to all your questions, and then you called me a light switch.”

If John believed in love at first sight, then he’d gotten a broken heart on the second one. He’s forgiven McKay for it, ages and ages ago, but it’s hard to forget. Even harder now that McKay’s gotten an idea into his beautiful mind. It’s probably the wrong one, but Rodney is stubborn enough to chase it down anyway.

“You’re a very good light switch.” That’s… Rodney means well, John hopes, but it’s not very helpful. “It’s extremely attractive. I caught a glimpse into your _mind_ , back then, how you see the universe, and it was one of the most intimate things I’d ever experienced. I didn’t want the others to be there at all.”

Suddenly, John wishes they hadn’t been there either, and if he has performance issues the next time he has to use the control chair, he’s going to blame Rodney. He grunts, but uncurls, willing to be just a _little_ more open. It’s Rodney. Whatever he breaks, he’s normally able to fix, if John’s willing to trust him. And it’s very easy to trust Rodney.

“Listen, I’m not good at the talking part of relationships, I just say whatever is on my mind and it’s normally the wrong thing because, I don’t know, feelings or something. They’re baffling and largely useless.”

“Sometimes, buddy, you make me think of a serial killer.”

“Bah, you idiot, that’s too messy. It’s hard enough to get through the minions in the lab when it’s just their _ego_ that’s shattered, let alone all the blood. And I would _not_ do well in jail, can you imagine, _me_ , with all that free time?” John feels his lip quirk up as he imagines Rodney waving his arms around, berating his minions. It’s one of his favorite pastimes, McKay watching. “ _You_ , stop distracting me. Anyway, I figure that you’re emotionally constipated enough that you’re not great at relationships either, which is why I just offered sex. But you don’t want just sex, do you.”

John swallows, and shrugs. His throat is dry and any thought he might have had to adding to this conversation has dived out the window. He guesses that Rodney wasn’t as far off in his idea as John had thought. “Who said you’re bad at talking?”

Rodney snorts. “Carter, right after the fifth orgasm. She said if I didn’t put my mouth to better use she’d get out the duct tape. That was an awesome night, hate sex is great.” John really, really wishes he didn’t know that, if only because Carter is an unavoidable fact of life in the SGC and if they ever get back into contact with earth he’s going to have to not hate her guts for sleeping with Rodney. “She’s not the only one though. So I want you to be aware that I’m going to say something eventually that will hurt your pretty-boy feelings and you’re going to be mad at me and I’ll probably make it worse by accident.”

“McKay, how would that be different from _now_?” Rodney tosses insults around like confetti and he’s never cared about offending John before. Not that John is easily offended, at all. Mostly, he just thinks Rodney is the funniest man in two galaxies, and he’ll never get tired of watching him.

“I--” Rodney pauses, mouth open, and John only just realizes that he doesn’t even want to look at the ocean anymore. He can look at Rodney, and if he’s guessing right, Rodney is very much on board with that. “Huh. I guess it wouldn’t. Still. Feelings make things messy, and you’re my best friend, so I forbid you from stopping being my best friend even if we have sex.”

“Buddy,” John knows he’s outright smiling now, “you know that’s what a relationship is, right? People who like each other, who are friends who want to spend their lives together, and possibly have sex?” If sex with Rodney is still on the table, then that’s a definite ‘have sex’. No question.

“Oh, Sheppard, you owe me so much goddamn sex if we’ve been dating for this long.”

John opens his mouth to say something along the lines of there needing to be mutual agreement and understanding to really be dating before he closes it and shrugs. He’ll figure out how to break it to Rodney that they haven’t been dating later, because right now Rodney is staring at him like he’s back in the control chair and he has a ZPM in his lap. Or he’s a particularly intriguing science problem.

It makes heat pool low in his stomach and his cock twitch, which doesn’t bode well for his normal pastime of McKay watching but does bode extremely well for their budding sex life. “How about we start with kissing?”

Kissing Rodney is _fantastic_. Better than John ever thought it would be, and he thought it would be pretty great.

Rodney kisses like he does everything else that he likes, intense and focused, and it has been so long since John’s kissed someone that he actually knows and likes, not since the good days with Nancy and that is longer ago than he cares to think about.

He is all warmth and heat and pressure against John, and John feels his back hit the wall, but even breathing seems like a waste of time. John wants to be angry that they could have been doing this for months, but that’s a waste of time too. Rodney slides his rough hands into John’s hair, his shoulders bunching under John’s arm from the slight stretch and pulls his head closer.

They’re pressed too close together for John not to feel every inch of Rodney, not with the way Rodney has his caged against the wall. Their tongues slide together, Rodney sucking lewdly at John’s, and John moans into it, moans again when Rodney’s hands spasm and pull at his hair.

“Your stupid, pretty hair, fuck, John,” Rodney jerks John’s head back to nibble down his neck, leaving sloppy, wet kisses all down the column of his throat. John thinks he might explode.

“Rodney, oh fuck, hell, don’t, no marks,” he’s not ready for _that_ , may not ever be ready for that.

“I’ll be good.” John runs his hand down Rodney’s back, panting into the ceiling as Rodney licks his way down onto John’s chest, yanking the collar aside. Rodney shoves John’s shirt up, thumbs at his nipples, and pulls John back down into a heady kiss.

John’s cock is as hard as it was yesterday, straining in his BDUs, but this time it won’t just be his hand and as much lube as Carson can shove at him. This time there isn’t anything keeping them from having sex except for lack of preparation and that won’t always be the case. Rodney’s cock is pressed tightly against John’s thigh, hot and heavy and John just wants to _see_ , see if it’s as thick and pretty as he thinks it is, wants to be.

He shoves at Rodney’s waistband, wanting to touch skin, wanting to _see_ and Rodney laughs into John’s mouth, helping him only after John gasps, “clothes,” at him. 

His cock is just as hard and heavy as it felt against John’s thigh, leaking already, and Rodney groans when John jacks it once, twice. Rodney scrabbles for John’s own fly--ignoring the disappointed moan at the loss of that hand pulling at his hair and the sweet edge it brought--and the feel of Rodney’s hand on John’s cock punches the breath from his body.

John throws a leg around Rodney’s, bringing them closer--he hadn’t been sure that was possible, John already feels like he’s half melted into Rodney at this point--close enough that with some maneuvering Rodney can close a calloused hand around them both to jack them slowly together.

It’s just a bit too rough, but John just hangs onto Rodney’s broad shoulders and sucks at his earlobe, panting and moaning, and praying that his knees don’t give out because it’s just too much and not enough and perfect all at once, like flying a Puddle-jumper and feeling the speed it actually goes.

“Oh, fuck, fuck Rodney, don’t you dare stop.”

They kiss again, somehow gentler this time, Rodney pressing up into the kiss like he needs it to breath, and John just… let’s go. He wants this, wants a life with this in it, with _him_ in it, and it’s just so easy to let it happen.

Fighting his feelings had been harder. This? This is the simplest thing he’s ever done.

He’s not going to call it love yet, but there’s every chance they’ll get there.

Rodney moans into John’s shoulder as he cums, and they collapse, exhausted, together, into a tangled heap. They just sit, John basking in the afterglow, but still checking with Atlantis that the door is locked and no one’s nearby. Habits are hard to break.

“John, stop cheating on me with the city.” Rodney pokes him in the side and pulls John’s shirt back down.

“How do you know I’m not cheating on the city with you?” John grins as Rodney snorts.

“I’m backdating our relationship. I got you the moment you sat in the control chair on earth.”

John laughs, and the city echoes his happiness back to him. Even the lights seem brighter. “I don’t think it works like that, buddy, but okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been thinking about posting a lot of my backlog of finished works, and I realized when I posted "Signs Of Warning Still Remain" that I had actually posted 68 works and the next one to be posted would be my _69th_. And because I have an absolutely terrible, childish sense of humor and it would make me laugh every single time I thought of it, I wanted someone to have sex in my 69th story.
> 
> I did not have a smut fic finished.
> 
> 5 days and much enabling from the discord I belong to later, here it is. I hope you all enjoy it, even if it ended up having way more feelings involved than I initially planned, but McShep pretty much OTP territory for me so writing it is lots of feels for me.
> 
> Come visit me on [tumblr](https://sachinighte.tumblr.com/) if you want!


End file.
